


After Orzammar

by AuthorinExile



Series: The Hero's Design [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Broodmothers (Dragon Age), Discussion of Assisted Suicide, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-26 23:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12568452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorinExile/pseuds/AuthorinExile
Summary: After Orzammar, the Warden sits with her friends and asks for a favor that none of them are comfortable promising.But they've seen the Broodmother, and none of them want to experience that.~~~A one-shot of a scene that must have happened at some point.





	After Orzammar

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this. Please comment any constructive criticisms and let me know what you think.

They were still somewhere in the Frostbacks when Tabris broke her silence.

  
She had been eerily quiet in the days following Orzammar, only speaking to issue orders or directions. The group of travelers-turned-friends had worried, but decided that she would speak when she wished. No sense in bothering her further.

  
Alistair knew that Tabris was conflicted. He guessed that she was upset with herself, and he could understand that. She had, after all, put Bhelen on the throne, only to discover immediately after the fact that he really was as vicious as his opposers said.

  
But, no, that wasn’t fair. They had all decided to follow her lead without any real discussion.

  
(And that was probably Alistair’s fault, really. He had been the first to defer to Tabris even though he outranked her, and he could only imagine that the others had seen that and followed in his footsteps.)

  
Questioning the leadership they had forced on her was ungrateful and unworthy of him. She was, all things considered, doing an excellent job.

  
But when she sat with them by the fire for the first time since reaching the surface, everyone tensed.

  
In the short amount of time that Tabris had been leading their party, she had learned a maneuver that Zevran and Leliana were fondly calling _The Look_. This look, Leliana had explained, was why people loved and feared her in equal measure. This look revealed the warrior’s spirit and the heart of gold that many people would not be able to see past the points of her ears. Alistair privately thought that The Look was why he had decided to follow her in the first place. Certainly, it had convinced many that she was not a woman to be trifled with.

  
Right now, Tabris was wearing The Look.

  
Tabris sat down, straightened her shoulders, and sneered at the fire. That steely glint had come into her eyes, and she sighed.

  
“I need to address something with the lot of you.”

  
That certainly got everyone’s attention. Wynne looked up from her newest book, Leliana and Zevran set aside their knives, Morrigan moved away from what Alistair was certain was meant to be a new method of torturing him, and Oghren made a valiant effort to look more sober than he was. Even Sten set aside Asala and his whetstone.

  
Tabris looked around at her friends and sighed.

  
“We were all in the Deep Roads,” she began, sounding as if she wished to say anything else. “We all saw the Broodmother. We all saw what they do to survivors. What they do to women.”

  
Here she paused and looked around again, gauging their reactions. Alistair knew that he looked sick, as did many of the others. Zevran and Morrigan were torn between disgust and hatred, which was understandable enough. Sten, however, had an awful, knowing glint in his eyes, and Alistair did not want to think about what that might mean.

  
Tabris steeled her nerve and continued.

  
“I have to ask something of all of you. I have to ask for oaths that I hope we never have to fulfill.”

  
And now Alistair knew what she wanted, and it hurt him to his core.

  
“I would ask that, should we ever find ourselves overwhelmed or surely defeated, none of you will allow the women to be taken alive,” and she stared each man of their ensemble in his eyes until he could no longer bear her gaze.

  
There was silence until Sten nodded and held his arm across his chest.

  
“You have my word, kadan.”

  
Wynne spoke next, and Alistair hated how happy he was that she did. Apparently, they agreed on the insanity of this request, which surprised Alistair more than he expected.

  
“Have we no say in this, Warden? You will decide our fates for us once more?”

  
Tabris flinched at the title. Wynne rarely called her “Warden” unless she was trying to appear professional in front of an audience, but Tabris knew better than to be hurt by it.

  
“No, Wynne,” she said, holding her head up defiantly. “I would never force a decision on any of you, certainly not one with so much weight to it. You should know that.”

  
Wynne looked away from those bright eyes faster than Alistair expected, seeming sufficiently cowed.

  
Tabris continued, “What I _would_ ask is for any of you that don’t agree with my decision to leave.”

  
And suddenly all the women were on their feet and yelling. Well, almost all. Tabris was on her feet, but she was silently glaring at everyone indiscriminately. The noise continued until Sten, loyal enforcer that he was, stood behind Tabris and shouted them all down into silence once more. Then he gestured for Tabris to speak again.

  
Her voice was as cold as ice and as hard as dragonscale.

  
“I will not allow people I care about to become a broodmare for those... _filthy monsters_. Not if I can help it,” she paused to swallow the tremor in her voice and mostly succeeded.

  
“I would rather die than face such a fate. That is why I ask for this. If anyone can’t bring themselves to do it… I can understand that. But I will not have someone twisted in that manner because one of you would not strike the killing blow. And I can’t die knowing that I allowed a friend to be condemned to such a life.

“So… If any of you, man or woman, can’t follow through on this order--and make no mistake, your choice lies only in staying--then I expect you to leave at sunrise.”

  
There was a tense silence that stretched until Tabris turned to go to her tent.

Then Morrigan spoke.

“I would rather die at the hands of a friend than be violated by an enemy. You have my word.”

  
Zevran nodded and said, “And mine, Warden. They won’t have you alive.”

  
Leliana managed to smile around her pledge to kill her friends and herself, if she were able.

  
Oghren, who had finally sobered sometime in the grim conversation, swore violently in dwarvish and gave his oath on the honor of his family’s house.

  
Wynne eventually sighed and said, “Oh, by the Fade, I’m old anyway. And, yes, I’ll take you down with me, if I’m able.”

  
Maker’s breath, even the dog whined at Tabris.

  
Which only left him. Alistair gaped at Tabris through it all, and found himself unable to voice the words when it was his turn. To kill Tabris, to murder the very woman that he loved--and, yes, Alistair caught himself thinking it, but he did love her…The very thought made his stomach roll in disgust.

  
But then he remembered the Broodmother and the things Hespith said they did to create her.

  
_Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast…_

  
Alistair shook away that memory. Maker, and Tabris had written that nightmarish poem down in that journal she always kept on her. How often did she turn to that page, reminding herself of what they fought and what they faced if they failed? How often did she lose herself in the terrible possibilities of what these creatures would do?

  
No. No, Alistair loved Tabris too much to leave her with that uncertainty. He certainly loved her too much to let her be tainted in such a way.

  
“I… You have my sword, if it should come to that,” he spoke in a quiet whisper, silently daring anyone to comment on the tremor in his voice.

  
He prayed it didn’t come to that.

  
He wouldn’t let it come to that.


End file.
